


It's Just a Pull

by bastanubis29



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Female Reader, Multi, Reader Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Succubus Reader, i cannot stress that this is a slow burn enough, i'm lowkey really proud of this one guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastanubis29/pseuds/bastanubis29
Summary: Maybe, just maybe, if the Nemeton hadn't been activated, you wouldn't even be in Beacon Hills. Maybe your brother, Deputy Parrish, wouldn't either. Maybe, if all had gone right, you never would have met the boy at the other end of your soulmate bond. Maybe you would have met Stiles at the right time, if all had played out the way it was supposed to. Because right now? Right now being his soulmate kinda sucks.*Weekly Updates!*A Teen Wolf Soulmate AU that takes place just after Void Stiles. Major spoilers for Teen Wolf. Canon compliant until mid-season 5.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	1. Prologue

Three teenagers burst from metal troughs of water. They are burdened with information that may save their lives. 

“I saw it! I know where it is!”

“We passed it, there was this stump, this huge tree,” another boy cuts in. “Well, it’s not huge anymore; it was cut down, but it’s still big though. Very big.”

“It was the night we were looking for the body,” the first boy continues.

The other boy finishes his thought without hesitation. “The same night you were bit by Peter.”

A girl interrupts: “I was there too, in the car with my mother. We almost hit someone”

The first boy turns to her. “It was me. You almost hit me” He turns to the other three, dry people in the room. “We can find it.”

Later, the first boy, Scott, will notice a red string attached to his pinky that always leads away from him, but never toward the girl. The second, Stiles, will realize that the colors have faded entirely from the world around him before being distracted by every part of the world being sucked away from him. The girl, Allison, is dead by the time she comes to terms with the name printed on the back of her thigh in handwriting just familiar enough to be painful. Isaac recognizes it too. So much wasted time.

Even later, when bodies are buried and things return somewhat to normal, Deaton will tell the boys: “Coming back from the dead opens your soul. It’s not surprising that your soulmate bonds pushed through as soon as they were able to.”

“Soulmates?” Stiles asks.

“There is magic even I don’t know much about. There’s really no precedent for it.”

“So what do we do?”

“What you always do, Scott. Protect yourselves. Protect your friends and family. All you can do is wait; soulmate bonds are tricky things.”

“How long do we have to wait?” Stiles asks, one hand shaking with nerves and anxiety and a little bit of weakness left by the nogitsune.

“That I can’t tell you. But I imagine that you won’t have to wait long. With the Nemeton at full power, it’s only a matter of time before something comes to Beacon Hills. Good or bad.”

\---

Somewhere else, in an undisclosed town in an undisclosed state, a girl rushes to the bathroom to throw up. You don’t know it, but three teenagers in Beacon Hills just died and came back to life; a Nemeton has regained some of its power. For you, it’s just a normal Tuesday afternoon and you’re missing History to puke.

In the pit of your gut, you feel something pulling at you. But you’re too busy rushing to the nurse’s office to worry about it.

“Dad?” you say when the nurse finally tells you that you can call to go home. “I’m sick. Can you come pick me up from school?”

“I just got off the phone with Jordan’s commanding officer. I was about to call the school.”

“What happened? Is he okay?”

“Yeah. He set off a bomb. He’s alive; he’s okay. I’m going to come get you.”

“Okay. What’s happening with Jordan?”

“They’re sending him home. We’re going to pick him up from the airport tomorrow.”

By the morning, you have your nausea under control enough to greet your brother at the airport. 

About a month later, his transfer to the Beacon Hills Police Department goes through (he keeps saying that police work at home is boring, and something about Beacon Hills is pulling at him) and you’re going to miss him. Even if you’d never tell him that.

You also are not going to tell him about the protection spells you did on all his things before he boards the plane.

(The pull in your gut trying to get you to get on the plane with him is another thing you will avoid talking about. It speaks to something that you’re avoiding thinking about until you absolutely have to.)


	2. I

Showing up soaking wet at your brother’s door with a suitcase and a shitty apology was never the way you intended on breaking the news to Jordan. Actually, you never planned to go to Beacon Hills at all, but then Dad recognized the symptoms and put you on the plane himself.

The doorbell doesn’t work, you realize after standing on the landing for a minute, hearing nothing from behind the door. Actually, he might very well be at work at the moment, but you take a deep breath and knock.

There’s a shuffling behind the door before it opens.

“(y/n)? What the hell?”

“Hi Jordan,” you say. “Surprise?”

\---

Later, when you’re in dry clothes and Jordan has chewed out Dad for an hour, your brother finally asks.

“What are you doing in Beacon Hills?”

“Remember that pull you said you felt?” you ask instead, dodging the question for the time being.

“Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?”

“There’s something Dad never told you about Mom.”

“I know that we have different dads, (y/n). That’s common knowledge.”

“I know you know that, stupid. I’m talking about something a little more important.”

“(Y/n), what the hell is going on? Dad was vague, and he’s never vague. Are you in trouble? Did something happen?”

“Mom wasn’t human.”

“What?”

“Mom wasn’t human. Jordan, you have to promise to let me finish.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jordan, Mom was a succubus.”

“You’re full of shit. Is it drugs? Are you doing drugs?”

You sigh. “Jordan. Mom wasn’t human. I’m not completely human.”

“If this is about the witchcraft, Dad and I both know.”

“That’s part of it. But, Jordan. You have to believe me. This town is brimming with the supernatural. You must be able to sense it a little bit.”

“If you’re not human because of Mom, then I can’t be human either.”

“That’s not how it works. Only women can be succubi in the traditional sense. You’re as human as anybody else.”

Jordan rubs his eyes. “I’m… We’ll talk about this some other time. Dad says you’re staying?” You nod. “Great. Glad you guys made that decision with me, then. You’re registered for school? Let’s get you settled before we talk about all of this again.”

He leaves the room to get some blankets from the closet. “And (y/n)? Stop putting spells in my stuff.”

\---

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“It’s normal to be nervous, but please puke outside the squad car.”

You turn to your brother and glare. “It’s not nerves. Something feels like it’s pulling at my insides.”

“Well, whatever it is, tell it to do it outside of my car. I’m gonna be late.”

“Just, give me a single second?”

You look around at the students flooding out of the parking lot and into the building. It looks like any other high school, even though you know that more than one supernatural being must roam its halls.

“(Y/n), you can start tomorrow if you’d rather,” Jordan suggests gently, but you shake your head.

“It’s fine. Half-way through junior year is the perfect time to switch schools. It’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

“(Y/n)...”

“Alright. I’m going in. See you after school. Bye!” You rush out of the car before Jordan can say anything to embarrass you both.

A shitty blue Jeep almost hits you on your way across the parking lot, but you keep your head down as you push toward the main entrance. Getting to the main office without anyone noticing you is your only priority.

There’s a line of students when you get to the office, most of them complaining about their schedules or the location of their lockers. You fiddle with a protective charm attached to your bag and try not to make eye contact.

By the time you reach the front of the line, the first bell has rung and most of the students in front of you have scattered into classrooms.

“Hi, I’m (y/n) Parrish?” you say to the secretary. “I’m new. They said I should come here for my schedule?”

“Parrish… You’re the new deputy’s kid?”

“Sister, actually. He’s really not old enough to be my father.”

“Alrighty,” she hands you a red folder. “Schedule’s in there, I think they set you up with a student to show you around. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, but she’s already turned back to an online game of Scrabble that she appears to be losing.

There’s another student standing outside the door, and you keep your head down. Something about this girl is different from the people back home, and not just because you are in a new place. Her energy is different.

“I’m Lydia,” she says, and sticks out her hand for you to shake.

Hesitantly, you take it, giving it a brief shake before returning to shuffling the papers in the folder.

“My first period is English,” you say softly, but she hears you.

“I’m in History, but your class is on my way. Come on.” She turns and starts making her way down the hallway, heels clicking with every step. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) Parrish. I just moved here last week.”

“Parrish as in Deputy Parrish?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Ah,” she stops suddenly, and you almost run into her. “This is you. I’ll come by to grab you after the period. Good luck!”

She clicks away to another room down the hall, and you watch her, brow furrowing as you try to figure out what she is. Your sight flickers for a moment, strings lighting up in your vision for a second before fading away again.

“Ms. Parrish? Were you planning on coming into the classroom today?”

You look up to see the teacher watching you expectantly.

“Yes, sorry.”

There’s only one empty desk in the entire classroom, so you make your way to it carefully, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. The weird tugging is back, but you do your best to ignore it.

“Ms. Parrish, you transferred from out of state?”

“Yes.”

“We’re in the midst of Frankenstein. Please do your best to catch up with the class as quickly as possible.”

You sink down in your seat and hope to god that the rest of your classes don’t go like this.

When class ends, you rush out to Lydia, hoping for a little bit of an escape before any of your other classes. 

“Hey, you dropped this.” A hand is holding one of your protective charms. “Seems important.”

“Thank you,” you forget your desire to avoid eye contact for a moment, glancing up to give a grateful smile to him.

Your vision fuzzes out again, and this time you are able to focus in on a golden thread tying the two of you together. You stumble into Lydia before your vision returns to normal.

“Are you okay?” she asks, but you and the other boy are still staring at each other.

Another girl comes up behind the boy, and sort of growls at you. This is enough to pull you from your stupor, especially when the boy seeks out her hand subconsciously. 

The bell rings above you, and Lydia curses. “We have to go. We’ve both already been late once.”

She grabs your arm and pushes you down the hall toward your next class.

Still standing in the doorway of the classroom is the boy. He still holds your protective charm, and he’s staring at it. For the first time in months, he can see the color red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me a very happy camper! Thanks for reading!


	3. II

Three people in the town are dead and your brother has started to bring his frustration with work home with him.

“And Sheriff Stilinski is hiding something from the rest of the department, which I  normally wouldn’t  really care about except for the part where we have a serial killer on our hands and the FBI is in town ?” Jordan complains as he buttons up his uniform. 

You’re  casually reading Frankenstein on the couch, lounging as he gets ready for the night shift. 

“Also, (y/n), what the hell did you line the apartment with? I touched some earlier and it burned.”

“It’s a mountain ash substitute. You know the building’s on top of a ley line, right? We could not be in a more vulnerable place magic-wise.”

Jordan sighs. “I forgot we’re still holding onto this whole supernatural thing. I’ll be home late; don’t wait up.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. You gonna be able to give me a ride to school tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you in the morning, don’t do anything stupid.”

“ I’m never the one that does. Be safe,” you tack on as Jordan leaves.

You dog-ear the page (it’s a school book; you  really couldn't care less about using a bookmark for it) and get up to lock the door behind him . Beacon Hills isn’t a bad area by any means, but the extra locks on the door make both you and your brother feel better. Your vision fuzzes out for a moment; it’s been happening more often and for longer amounts of time than ever. It worries you, but you know exactly why it’s happening.

You  just don’t want to come to terms with it yet.

\---

The deadpool stares up at them. The key, ALLISON, mocks them in big letters at the bottom of the page, but that’s not what holds their attention. It’s the familiarity of the names on the list that are more  concerning than anything else.

“Why is (y/n) on this list? She doesn’t smell like anything, right Scott?”

Scott scrambles for a moment. “She doesn’t smell like a wolf? That doesn’t mean that she’s not something else.”

“We have to warn her.” Lydia says, but her eyes  are unfocused .

Stiles crouches down to look her in the eyes. “Lydia, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“We have to go.”

“Is she going to die?” Scott asks.

Lydia looks up, eyes still  slightly unfocused. “I don’t know. I can’t tell.”

\---

You’re checking the protective charms on the windows when you feel it. There’s another presence in the apartment. With a fingernail, you nick your palm, spreading the blood into the shape of a pentagram.

“Two million for this little thing? How dangerous could she be?” A male voice says from behind you, and you make for the door.

You can’t wreck Jordan’s apartment with the damage that’s about to occur, but you can’t let anyone see you either.  There’s a girl standing outside of your apartment, and you pull enough power from the charm in your back pocket to ram her into the wall before you run outside into the alley .

They follow, but you keep running until you reach the grassy patch of the ‘backyard’ of your apartment complex .  Instantly , you feel power surge through your body. The pentagram on your palm glows  softly , and you smirk a bit to yourself.

The two intruders look a bit surprised that you’ve decided to turn and fight instead of continuing to flee, but they adapt  quickly . One has a spear, the other a garrote. The shield spell is almost second nature to you, and the little patch of grass ripples with energy as you cast it.

They’re not supernatural from what you can tell, so your usual defensive moves won’t be as effective. Mountain ash doesn’t stop humans, after all.

“Who are you?” you shout, but they laugh instead of answering.

The boy throws his spear at you, path directed at the center of your chest. Instead, it hits your shield spell, bouncing  harmlessly onto the grass in front of you. You have minimal training with long distance weapons, but you pick it up anyway.

Now they look angry. Angry, but with a touch of fear, and that you can work with.

“My brother’s a cop, you know?” you say  conversationally , examining the lacrosse stick turned spear in your hands. “Security systems like you wouldn’t believe in our apartment. Doesn’t matter how good you are. Backup is on the way, whether you think you tripped an alarm or not. The magic ones  are connected to the human ones, so… You picked the wrong bitch to come after tonight.”

They’re circling.  The boy has pulled out another knife, but seems to have learned from his first attempt that a distance attack isn’t going to work . The girl seems out of her element, like  being seen isn’t her intention and she doesn’t quite know what to do.

“As fun as this is, I’d  really rather get back to my English homework, so… if we could finish this up soon that would be great.”

With a growl, the girl lunges for you. She manages to get inside the shield, which you’re impressed by.  She underestimates the speed at which you are able to cast,  however , and flinches back as she comes in contact with you . Her palms  are burned bright red, and the fire charm you’re gearing up for hasn’t even manifested all the way.

“What the hell are you?” she hisses.

“A pissed off witch. And not the fun kind.”

There are more presences entering your sphere of awareness, but these feel familiar. Safer, at least, than the two in front of you.  You focus all your energy into expelling fire from your palms, the grass around you burning to a crisp as you absorb its energy .

Scott McCall turns the corner  just in time to see you fling fire at the two assassins, and he stops in his tracks.

“And tell your bidder that two million is a little low.” You yell before your vision fuzzes out again and you stumble. The grass cushions your fall, but it smudges the pentagram on your palm.  Slowly , the shield around you fizzles out. 

Luckily, in the time it takes for you to fall and your shield to evaporate, Scott and his little pack have driven the assassins off .

“I had that handled,” you say as Scott hauls you to your feet. 

“Never hurts to have help,” he replies, shrugging.

` “(Y/n)," you reach out to shake his hand. "I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Not  officially . You’re in Coach’s class with me. I’m Scott.” He gestures around the circle. “Liam, Malia, you know Lydia, that’s Kira, and Stiles.”

“We’ve met,” Stiles offers.

“Yep. I’d invite you guys up to the apartment, but I’ve got that thing mountain ashed to the high heavens, so…”

“Ah. Yeah, that is a bit of a problem.”

“Well, thanks for the assist, um, I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” You start to walk away, but something pulls you back. “Why are you guys all the way out on this side of Beacon Hills?”

Scott stalls for a moment before answering. “There’s a list of supernatural people that are being killed.”

“A deadpool,” Stiles adds.

“I felt you dying,” Lydia whispers. “How was I wrong?”

“Banshee?” you question, but continue before anyone can  validate your statement. “They never expect a witch. Especially not one who isn’t afraid to  literally raise Hell.”

“So, you’re a witch?” Malia asks, looking at you like you’re a particularly difficult math problem.

“I guess  technically that’s the category I fall under. It’s not a perfect label, but it  honestly isn’t any of your business what I am.”

“That’s fair,” Scott says before anyone can protest that. “If you ever need help, you know where to find us.”

“No offense, Scott, but  I feel like asking for your help is more dangerous than being on my own. I’ll see you guys around.”

“Wait,” a voice says from behind you, and you turn. “You never took this back.”  Stiles is holding one of your protective charms in his hand, the ribbons swaying in the breeze of the alleyway .

Hesitantly , you take it from him. “You held onto it?”

“It seemed like it was something important to you. I figured you’d  probably want it back.”

Malia is watching you with cold eyes, but you ignore her. “It’s a protective charm. I have like a million of them. But thanks.”

Your vision fuzzes, and gold comes into view, bright and rich and  powerfully beautiful. You take one step backward, then another. “I  really should go. Jordan worries,” you say, then rush down the alleyway and back to the apartment.

The trip back to your apartment is hazy, as is the process of creating new charms and totems to hang on the windows.  Your vision is fuzzing in and out, and when Jordan gets home, he finds you asleep on the floor, gauze  loosely wrapped around your hand .


	4. III

A few days later, Jordan is set on fire. And while you know it’s none of your business and that Jordan told you not to come to the station unless it was an emergency, you don’t care. Hell has no fury like a woman, and no one really tries to stop you as you walk through the station.

“Which of you assholes is the one that tried to murder my brother?”

“He’s in the hospital,” someone pipes up from a desk, and you turn to glare in their direction.

“Good.”

No one else speaks after that. Jordan is at home surrounded by as many protective charms as he’d let you put on him. But you, you have some choice words for the Sheriff and you’re not leaving until he hears them.

His office door is shut, but the light is on and you can see him talking to someone. You knock, because Dad did not raise a daughter with absolutely no manners, but you don’t wait to be invited in.

“What kind of department hires people who are willing to kill their coworkers for money?”

Both men in the room turn to face you, and the tug in your stomach when you see that it's Stiles is drowned out by the sheer amount of rage brimming in your body.

“I had no idea anyone in the department was capable of that, kid.”

“Don’t ‘kid’ me. And you,” you turn round to Stiles. “Why didn’t you or anyone of your pack tell me that my brother was on the list? That didn’t seem like pertinent information to you?”

“We didn’t find out until recently.”

“Lydia has my number. Next time a member of my family is worth five million on a hit list of supernatural creatures, you text me at the very least.”

“Shouldn’t you have just assumed he was on the list? Seeing as you’re on the list too?”

“Jordan’s human, Stiles. It didn’t occur to me that he would be on the list.”

“Kid-”

“It’s (y/n). Don’t patronize me.”

“(Y/n), your brother survived his entire patrol car being splashed with gasoline and set on fire. I think it’s safe to say he’s not entirely human.”

“He’s supposed to be human. Mom said he was human.”

\---

Scott McCall’s pack surrounds you on what they’ve decided is neutral territory. You’re not a huge fan of sitting in the parking lot of the high school, but you figure it’s better than meeting at someone’s house.

“So… we’ve never really had to ask what someone is before. Normally we figure it out.”

“I’m not going to be in your Bestiary. My kind is secretive. To the point that most think we died out entirely.”

Scott nods. He’s taken on his role of leader in this conversation, though you can tell that the others are brimming with questions themselves. You’re pretty sure that Stiles or Lydia would ask more pertinent questions, but it is what it is.

“So…”

“The first thing you have to understand is that Jordan and I are only half-siblings. We have the same mom, but Dad is his father, not mine biologically.”

“But you’re younger,” Lydia frowns.

“Yeah, Mom did some things she’s not proud of.”

“So…”

“I’m getting there.” you take a deep breath. “I started messing around with witchcraft in middle school. Mom still lived with us at that point. She was… maybe not supportive but she helped. Jordan never liked it. Dad didn’t either, but he also didn’t try to stop me. My brand of magic is connected to Hell though.”

“Like, pointy horns pitchfork hell?” Kira asks.

“It’s not exactly like that. It’s just a parallel reality that runs tangentially to ours as a holding pattern of sorts for those like us that break the rules.”

“So, hell?”

“Not hell, Hell. God, it never gets easier to say this out loud.”

“What?” Malia snaps. “Just say it.”

“My mom was a succubus.”

“A sex demon?” Lydia says slowly.

“Technically yes? That’s mostly bad PR from organized religion though. Succubi are technically beings that feed on pheromones, to the point that sex is a massive power surge for them. But their role is to keep track of bonds.”

“Bonds?”

“Pack bonds, soulmate bonds. Any kind of bond. They can see them, manipulate them. Succubi are also female presenting.”

“What does that mean?” Scott questions.

“Technically, they’re not human. So, male and female don’t really encapsulate them as labels. I’m half human.”

“And half succubus?”

“Exactly. But, technically not yet.”

“Okay, I’m confused.”

“Imagine being ten and your mom trying to explain this to you, Stiles. My succubi nature will fully manifest once I turn eighteen.”

“Which is when?” Kira asks.

“This summer. So, symptoms have started developing.”

“What kind of symptoms?”

“I can see bonds sometimes. If I focus, I can force it. When they manifest fully I’ll be able to let others see them too. But, for now it’s spotty and just me.”

“What do they look like?” Kira asks, leaning forward out of curiosity.

“Most bonds look like strings almost. They’re different colors depending on what kind of bond they are.”

“Like what?”

“Pack bonds are almost orange. Not like bright orange, but a burnt orange. The relationships people build with each other each have colors too. Like, siblings are blue. Enemies are black. Sexual partners are pink while romantic partners are blood red.”

“What about soulmates?” Stiles asks, and your heart almost stops completely.

“It depends on the strength of the bond. The strongest pulls, because soulmates are just pulls," your heartbeat skips, but you ignore it, plowing on, "not a relationship, are gold. Most fall into a yellowish tone. Most people go their entire lives with one soulmate that they never end up meeting.” You try to be nonchalant, but you can tell that the werewolves around you can hear your heartbeat speed up. “I’m honestly not going to be much use to you until my abilities manifest. Sorry.”

“And the assassins?”

“There’s enough spellwork around our apartment to protect the entire town. No offense, but my priority is making sure that my brother and I survive this threat.”


	5. IV

“Drop it!” Jordan shouts, flicking the safety off his gun and moving quickly into the room. “Take your thumb off that needle and slowly withdraw from her neck.”

The orderly turns slowly to face your brother as you enter the room. “Young deputy,” he sneers, and his hand does not waver from where it holds sedative to Lydia’s throat. He looks directly at you. “You’re just a kid,” he turns back to your brother. “I bet you’ve never even fired.”

The gunshot is both louder and quieter than you expect it to be. The orderly falls to the floor and your brother rushes toward Lydia. You kick the needle away from the orderly’s reach before moving to untie Stiles. 

Lydia is murmuring something about her grandmother to your brother, but you’re focusing too much on trying to untie Stiles with shaky hands to really pay attention. Jordan stands, focusing his gun on the orderly again.

“He was controlling Meredith,” Lydia says, but the flicker of your vision shows no evidence of that kind of bond existing. 

In fact, you realize that there’s a sixth person in the room only seconds before Stiles says: “He used her to create the deadpool.”

The orderly is lying face up on the ground. He’s made no effort to escape or fight back. There’s a resolution in his face, an acceptance of his fate that surprises you. Most people don’t take the hand of death well. 

“And he killed her when she tried to help us,” Lydia continues.

Jordan takes in everything Lydia is saying in a way that you file away for later. You really will need to talk to him about what’s appropriate at his age, but now is really not the time. 

“Lydia,” you start, but her eyes unfocus and you realize that she has figured out what you just have.

“Oh god,” she breathes, and everyone in the room turns to look at her. “It’s not him. He’s not the Benefactor.”

“There’s someone else here,” you whisper, quiet enough that only Stiles hears you.

“No,” a voice says from behind some shelving, and you palm a protective charm before grabbing Stiles’s sleeve just in case. He gives you a confused glance, but the voice continues. “And, he wasn’t on my list. But he was a bad person.”

\---

Taking Stiles to the hospital is just as awkward as anyone could expect. You’re driving the Jeep, which is a feat only because it’s been a while since you’ve driven stick shift and the car is kind of a piece of junk.

You do not tell Stiles this, however. The trip is completed mostly in silence because there’s really not much for you to say to him.

“So…” he starts, “you can see soulmate bonds.”

“Yep.”

“You know, you made me see colors again.”

“You have a concussion, Stiles.”

“Deaton said only my soulmate was going to be able to do that for me.”

“Stiles, you have a concussion.”

“So we’re never going to talk about this?”

“Not right now, at the very least.”

“Seriously?” he pouts like a child. “I have so many questions though.”

“Stiles,” you sigh, one hand leaving the wheel momentarily to rub tiredly at your temple. “I promise that one day I will answer any and all questions you have. But, honestly, it really doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? You said bonds are like your main thing.” He makes a vague gesture with his hands that you see only out of the corner of your eye because you’re driving. And your eyes should be on the road, not your soulmate.

“It doesn’t matter because you have Malia. And despite my kind’s reputation, I’d never mess with that.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “And it really shouldn’t matter to you anyway, because you have Malia.”

Stiles nods in your periphery, resting his head back against the headrest. “You’re right. I’m just curious, I guess. No one but Derek really ever knows anything around here and I was hoping to talk to someone a little nicer than him.”

“Stiles, when you no longer have a concussion and can think clearly, I will answer any questions you have. But whatever bond there is or is supposed to be between us, that’s off limits. We’re never talking about that.”

You pull the Jeep into a spot near the main entrance of the hospital and the conversation ends.

“(Y/n)? Can I ask just one thing?”

You stop climbing out of the car. “What?”

“What color is it?” Stiles hasn’t moved yet, still sitting in the passenger seat of his car. “You said gold is the strongest, right?”

You think about the pretty, rich gold color of your soulmate bond with Stiles, and lie through your teeth. There aren’t any werewolves around, so no one can call you out on it.

“I don’t really look at it at all.” You shut the driver’s side door on both the conversation and Stiles’s face.

You don’t see Stiles’s face fall, or the way he watches you as you check him into the hospital. 


	6. V

You’re sweating bullets on the couch while Jordan paces around the apartment in heated conversation with someone else.

“I’m fine, Jordan,” you murmur. “I can come. I want to help.”

“You look like you’re on the brink of death, (y/n). There’s no way in hell I’m taking you to Mexico.” He hangs up the phone.

“Take a protective charm at least? Give some to the others?”

“(Y/n)...”

“Please?”

Jordan sighs. You’ve been running a fever for three days and you know that he’s hesitant to leave you alone at all, much less to go to Mexico. Your birthday only creeps closer, and the symptoms of your coming of age are only getting stronger.

“Maybe I should stay here,” he whispers, almost to himself.

“You have to go, Jordan. Help them.”

“I don’t want to leave you by yourself…”

“If you don’t go, I’m going to yell at you about how you feel about Lydia again. Ad nauseum.”

“(Y/n),” Jordan warns, but you plow through.

“She’s my age, Jordan. She’s in high school. It doesn’t matter if she’s eighteen or not; you’re twenty-five. “

“Alright, alright. Jeez. I’m going.”

There’s a knock at the door. When Jordan opens it, Chris Argent stands in the entryway.

“Hi Mr. Argent,” you greet. “Jordan, charms?”

Jordan sighs, but goes to your room to grab the box of protective charms you keep there.

“Hey kid. How do you feel?”

“I can’t really see right now, but I’m alright. Do me a favor and give them Hell from me?”

“Of course. Parrish? We have to leave now if we’re going to catch up to them in time.”

Jordan hovers in the living area, glancing between you and Mr. Argent. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

“Jordan. Go. You have to go. Dumbass humans keep going in with no training, no protection. Go.”

“Okay. Okay. And Lydia?”

“Too young for you. But I’ll text you when I hear from her. Go. Save my dumbass soulmate from his own stupid plan.”

Mr. Argent’s eyebrows raise when hears you mention a soulmate, but he has enough sense and tact not to question it aloud.

“And Jordan?” you say, just before he closes the door as he leaves. “Please don’t die.”

\---

By the time Jordan returns from Mexico, the McCall pack in tow, you’re delirious. Your birthday is only a few weeks away, and the physical changes your body is going through don’t allow you to leave the apartment at all.

“I still think I should take you to the hospital,” Jordan says when he checks on you before work.

“It’s fine,” you groan. You haven’t been able to keep food down for two days, but your vision is returning and that bodes well. “This is normal.”

“(Y/n)...”

“Seriously. If something were horribly wrong, I’d tell you. Hell, I’d call the hospital myself.”

“I’m just worried. Like, how do you really know this is normal?”

“Mom left me a book with all the information I need to know.”

“And you’re sure you’re going to be able to start school in a month? Because right now you look like you’re dying.”

“Lydia hasn’t shown up in a panic, has she? I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Go to work.” You wave your arm in the general direction of your brother and wince when it causes your stomach to turn.

“Okay. I’m going. I’ll see you later. Don’t die.”

“Can you switch the window charm before you leave?”

Jordan rolls his eyes, but does as you ask. It’s the same charm as the first day of school; the one that you dropped and Stiles returned to you.

It hangs in the window, red ribbons swaying.

\---

The physical change when you turn eighteen is subtle. There’s no obvious body changes or changes in attitude. However, Jordan backs out of your room almost immediately when he comes in to check on you.

“Don’t take this personally,” he says, covering his nose and backing away. “But you reek.”

The pheromones take a while to get under control. For about two weeks, Jordan walks around with Vick’s vaporub under his nose just to be able to be in the same apartment as you. By the time you do get them under control enough to be in public, the summer is almost over.

You’ve texted back and forth with a few of the McCall pack, namely Lydia and Kira. Scott and Lydia had come by a couple of times to talk to Jordan, but no one ever stayed for very long. You’re pretty isolated from the rest of the world for the summer, and outside of a ‘Happy Birthday’ text, you haven’t spoken to Stiles at all.

Lydia texts you something about meeting up for something called ‘Senior scribe’. There’s no further information in the text, just instructions to meet at the school to participate in some tradition that no one seems to want to explain.

But you may as well test your control, and you don’t see a reason not to show up. Scott’s been bugging you for protective charms for his mother as well, so you figure it’s easier to give those to him before school starts rather than later.

Besides, nothing’s gone horribly wrong all summer. Why not let it all go to hell right before the school year starts?


	7. VI

It’s pouring rain when you pull into the high school parking lot. You turn off the windshield wipers and just sit in the car for a moment, watching the rain beat down on the windows. Stiles’s Jeep pulls into the lot next to you, and you wait until you see Malia and Stiles rush out of the car. He’s holding his jacket over her in an attempt to shield her from the rain. It’s not working, but it’s sweet.

You rustle around in the backseat for an umbrella before braving the storm yourself. You catch up to them just under the entryway. Stiles is saying something that seems serious to Malia, but she interrupts him with a kiss. You turn away as Malia shoves her tongue down Stiles’s throat in lieu of adult conversation about what’s bothering him. There is, of course, a difference between accepting that your soulmate is in love with someone else and having to watch the proof of that.

You clear your throat awkwardly, and Malia backs away from Stiles enough to glare at you. All of a sudden, there’s a rush of wind next to you before Malia is forcing someone to the floor.

Liam pants on the concrete before wheezing, “Scott’s in trouble.”

Almost immediately, Malia’s head snaps toward the fields. She rushes off, leaving you, Stiles, and Liam to catch up.

By the time you turn the corner, Scott’s being forced to his knees by a wolf with claws longer than any you’ve ever seen. There’s another wolf on the ground next to Kira, and everyone is frozen in place as the red in Scott’s eyes fades.

You cut your palm open, ready to come in for an assist since no one else seems to be able to move, but Scott’s eyes return to normal. He begins standing again, and you hear the cracking of the other wolf’s wrist. Scott pulls the other wolf’s claws out of his chest and throws them onto the ground.

“I don’t know who you are,” Scott growls, “or what you thought you were gonna do. But I’ll give you a choice. You can stay, and I’ll break something else, or you can run.”  
The other wolf turns to look at everyone around him; he seems to realize he’s outnumbered for the first time.

You let your eyes flash pink as his gaze passes you to rest on Stiles.

“I’d run,” Stiles suggests, and the other wolf limps off into the storm. Now, the pack round on the wolf who was on the ground with Kira.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he says, smiling to himself.

Something about this guy is off, but his bonds are a confusing tangle that you can’t make heads or tails of.

“I guess I look a little different since the fourth grade,” he continues.

“Theo?” Scott asks incredulously, and the other wolf nods.

“You know him?” Malia asks, and for once you both seem to be on the same page.

“They used to,” Theo answers. “Trust me, I never thought I’d see you guys again.A couple months ago I heard about an Alpha in Beacon Hills. When I found out his name was Scott McCall… Just couldn’t believe it. Not just an Alpha,” Theo continues, “but a True Alpha.”

“What do you want?” Scott asks, asking the question that’s on everyone’s mind.

“I came back to Beacon Hills,” Theo smiles, “back home with my family, because I wanna be a part of your pack.”  
\---

When you finally meet up with Lydia inside, things resume almost as if no one was trying to kill Scott fifteen minutes ago.

You walk to the library on the tail end of the group. You’re not really a part of the pack, even though you’re pretty sure they consider you an ally. Something poignant seems to be happening as they write their initials on the shelf, but it’s something you’re not privy to. You hastily scribble your initials under Stiles’s and try to catch up as they leave the library.

“So,” Lydia says as you approach the group in the lobby. “Where have you been all summer?”

You let your eyes flash pink, startling everyone around you. “Getting that under control.”

“Happy belated birthday,” Scott chuckles, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

“Wasn’t really happy for anyone. I was sick the whole time. If you talk to Jordan, he’ll tell you I was basically dying the whole time.”

“Why are we ignoring the obvious?” Stiles asks, and you can sense him about to put his foot in his mouth.

“Don’t. Seriously, don’t,” you murmur.

“(Y/n) got hot!”

You rub your eyes tiredly as Malia smacks him across the chest. “It’s the pheromones, please shut up.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but since Stiles did…” Kira starts, and you groan.

“It’s all pheromones. Nothing changed physically, which is a relief.”

“Is it supposed to?” Lydia asks, innocent curiosity.

You weigh answering honestly, but decide trying to lie in the midst of a bunch of weres probably isn’t the best idea. “Supposedly, succubi change appearance to better suit their soulmate’s taste.”

Stiles ducks his head, but Scott’s snaps up. “Wait, soulmate? You know about them?”

“Yeah? I told you that a while ago. My kind are kind of the experts on them. They’re actually integral to our species.”

“So, you could answer a couple of questions?”

“Do we really have time for that tonight?” Malia interrupts, and her possessive hands on Stiles couldn’t be any clearer. Drop it.

“Malia’s right,” you say. “I can answer them later. Right now we should probably be worried about Claws. What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. But I think the scale is tipping.”


	8. VII

Scott, ultimately, is right. The scales tip, and not in the way anyone was hoping. The discovery that someone is creating Chimeras hits the pack, and things go to shit pretty quickly after that.

For better or worse, Theo becomes an ally. Both you and Stiles are still hesitant to trust him, something that pushes you closer than before.

“There’s just something that doesn’t feel right about him,” Stiles says as you pass him books from the shelf.

“I agree with you,” you reply, crouching down to grab something from the bottom shelf. “His bonds are all tangled. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What do you mean, ‘tangled’?”

You sigh, trying to figure out how to explain it. “It almost looks like someone shoved them all into a drawer. There are dead ends on some of them too. That’s really not a good sign for anyone.”

“Dead ends?”

“Places where bonds have been forcibly broken.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Yeah. If you really wanted, I could break our soulmate bond completely. That offer stands, just so you know.”

“You’d break it?”

“Only if you asked me to,” you sigh. The weight of the world is on both of your shoulders and it shouldn’t be. It strikes you in this moment how young you really are.

“But, you said they’re important to your kind?”

“They make us more powerful. But it’s not life and death. If you ever decide you don’t want it there anymore, just let me know. God, how did we get from Theo to this?”

“Theo. I just don’t get why Scott wants to trust him so badly.”

“He’s naïve. He really thinks everyone has only the best of intentions.”

“I still don’t trust him. I’m just glad I’m not the only one that doesn’t.”

“Yeah, but Scott does trust him, so… not much we can do about him being in the loop.”

“Unless we started keeping things from Scott,” Stiles muses, and you look up at him.

“You’d never do that. There’s not a disloyal bone in your body, Stiles.” The words hang between you for a moment before Mason comes around the corner.

“(Y/n), Scott said you’d catch me up?”

The moment between you and Stiles breaks, and he hands you the pile of books he’s been holding for you.

“Yeah,” you glance at Stiles. “Can you drive me home later? Stacy’s in the shop.”

“Stacy?” Stiles asks.

“My car. You know, because ‘Stacy’s mom,’” you gesture vaguely to yourself, “‘has got it going on?’”

“Oh,” Stiles laughs. “Cute. Yeah. Just text me when you’re done.”

“Will do. See you later.”

\---

“So, you’re saying that you see everyone’s bonds all the time?”

“I just told you that there are people kidnapping teenagers and turning them into bastardized supernatural creatures, and you focused on the bond thing? None of the McCall pack has their priorities straight.”

“But you already said we don’t really know anything more than that about who’s doing it. I’d kind of rather focus on the things we do know.”

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Can you tell me who my soulmate is?”

You can’t help it; you start laughing. Mason looks a little hurt, but you wave it off. “That’s the first question anybody ever asks. I’m not laughing at you. But no, I can’t. You have to be within range of them, for one thing. Plus, succubi rules. We’re not really supposed to tell non-succubi about bonds at all. Especially not humans.”

You start closing the books in front of you and packing up. You fire off a text to Stiles to tell him you’re finishing up.

“And a succubus is a… sex demon?”

“Technically, yes. It’s a little more complicated than that, though.”

“How?” And you have to remind yourself that Mason is human and new to all of this.

You stand, motioning for Mason to follow you. “Most of what you’ve probably read is propaganda from organized religion. Succubi get their power from Hell. Hell requires offerings. It’s why most of my spell work involves blood.”

“But that’s a witchcraft thing, right?”

“Yes. Being a succubus gives me a little leeway. Centuries ago, succubi were in charge of putting bonds in motion. Keeping track, making sure that things were falling into place. Now, there’s so few of us present in this plane, there’s no longer enough of us to do it.”

“What happened to all of them?”

“The witch hunts killed a lot of the old families off. Most succubi dabble in witchcraft before their abilities manifest. Mating with humans became a trend in the seventeenth century, and the chances of passing along the genes are slim. The gene pool is so diluted that any born succubi are rare.”

“So, bonds don’t mean anything anymore?”

“Not necessarily. I just don’t have to monitor them the way my kind used to. I’m useful because I can generally tell where loyalties lie. I’ve heard about succubi being hired as private guards to sniff out traitors. There’s one in Australia that is paid to tell people whether or not they’re soulmates.”

“Do you need sex to keep your powers?”

“No, and you’re too young to be asking me that. But to kill your curiosity, my power doesn’t come from sex. Sex is generally used to create the offering of pheromones and hormones that succubi use in order to keep their relationship with Hell a beneficial one. No where better for that than a high school. All of us radiate hormones and pheromones like you wouldn’t believe.”

You reshelf a few books, putting the rest on the librarian’s cart. “It’s late, Mason. You should go home.”

“I’ve got one more question. Actually, a bunch more but most of them can wait. What kind of bond is the hardest to ignore?”

“Other than our own? Ones that are being fought. Like that girl, Hayden, I think her name is? She’s fighting her bond to Liam like crazy. It’s pretty distracting, honestly.”

“Hayden and Liam? Really?”

“You shouldn’t tell him. I honestly shouldn’t have told you. Forcing a bond really never works out.”

Mason nods, but you can tell that he’s bursting to tell Liam as soon as he sees him. “Do you want me to stay until Stiles gets here?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got to run to my locker first, anyway. Go home. Do your homework, all that responsible jazz. Don’t let all of this distract you from school. You’re a smart kid, use that to your advantage.”

Mason runs off across the parking lot, and somewhere in the back of your head you log his yellowish soul bond as one you’ll probably see fulfilled. The strand is taut, which means his soulmate is close.

Speaking of soul bonds, your own is pulling, which means Stiles must be getting close. It’s brisk in the parking lot, but you don’t see the blue Jeep quite yet.

Your phone buzzes with a text, and you groan when you realize that Stiles has parked on the other side of the building. The light jog you take around the building is enough to warm you up, but you’re looking forward to the heat inside the car.

Alas, Stiles has the hood popped when you get there, and you groan. His car is even more of a piece of junk than your own. “What is it this time?” you call out. You’re about 50 feet from the car, and he turns.

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I’m just putting duct tape on it and hoping for the best.”

You peer under the hood. “It looks like your engine is more duct tape than engine at this point.”

“Don’t bust on Roscoe.”

“He’s a beautiful car, he just needs a little work.” Your eyes flash pink against your will, and you can feel another presence enter the parking lot.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“There’s someone else here.”


	9. VIII

A hand closes around Stiles’s shoulder, and you can hear something crunch. You don’t recognize the person, but you know enough to know that this isn’t an ally.

There’s another presence, a familiar one hovering just at the edge of your abilities, but you’re a bit distracted by the person currently trying to kill your soulmate. You slice your palm open on the Jeep and scrawl it into a pentagram on both hands.

Stiles hits the other guy across the face with a wrench, and you both make a dash for the school.

“Who the hell is that?” you pant out.

“His name is Donovan. My dad arrested him.”

You rush into the library, and hide in the stacks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Donovan enter behind you. Delicately, as to not spread blood all over Stiles’s sweatshirt, you grab a hold of his sleeve. He turns back to look at you, but you shake your head.

Donovan starts spouting off about the ‘reason’ that he’s coming after Stiles, but you honestly don’t care enough to listen. You notice Stiles’s phone on the ground just a moment before Donovan does. It’s buzzing.

Donovan picks it up and puts it in his pocket, then walks up the stairs.

This is the only chance you see to run, and you tug on Stiles’s sleeve before making a run for the back entrance of the library. Stiles misunderstands and heads for the main doors, and Donovan appears behind him.

You watch in horror as Stiles climbs the construction scaffolding in an attempt to get away. Donovan climbs up behind him.

“Don’t worry,” you hear Donovan taunt, “I’m only going to eat your legs.”

Fire is your preferred element, but you can’t use it. You’ll burn the whole place down, and that would probably raise more questions than help the situation. You start the incantation for wind, but Stiles, your beautiful, brilliant soulmate, pulls a pin out of the scaffolding and the part Donovan was climbing falls.

You hear Donovan’s death more than you feel it, the thunk of metal through flesh and bone sickeningly loud in the silence of the empty library. Stiles climbs down slowly, and you both stand near the body in silence.

Stiles’s phone buzzes in Donovan’s pocket, and you watch as he gently removes it. You take notice of the fact that it’s Malia calling, but Stiles sends it to voicemail. He looks empty. There’s hardly anything behind his eyes besides shock, and you take his hand gently. Empty eyes find yours, and you pull him from the library, careful not to leave fingerprints on anything.

“Come on,” you whisper. “It’s okay, but we have to go.”

“No,” Stiles chokes out, and he leads you to the main office instead. You watch him dial 911, listen to him breathe as he stays silent on the line. When the dispatcher hangs up, you stand there with him.

“Stiles, we have to go,” you whisper soothingly. “We can’t be here when the police get here.”

Stiles nods, but the emptiness is back. You lead him out to his car, closing the hood and getting into the passenger seat beside him. The car starts on the first try, and you thank god for small miracles. Instead of getting out of the parking lot, Stiles backs the Jeep into the spot behind the dumpsters and watches as a police officer rolls up and enters the building.

He turns on a radio scanner and listens intently.

“Nothing here. Just a prank call.”

You look at each other incredulously, and as soon as the squad car is out of view, you both rush back into the building. There’s nothing in the library. All of the scaffolding that fell is gone, along with the tarp that had been on the ground, absorbing Donovan’s blood. Aside from a single drop of blood on the floor, it looks as though the last thirty minutes were just a nightmare.

When you get back in the Jeep, Stiles’s phone buzzes again. He continues to ignore it.

“I… I killed him.”

“Stiles…”

“I killed him, (y/n). Murder.”

“Stiles. It was self defense. He was going to kill you. And you didn’t do it on purpose. There was no way for you to know that the scaffolding would fall like that. It’s not your fault.”

Tentatively, you cover his hand with yours on the gearshift.

“I’m gonna lose Scott,” Stiles chokes out, hand clenching and unclenching beneath yours.

“You’re not going to lose Scott. Scott can’t blame you for this.”

“He’s going to hate me.”

“Scott could never hate you, Stiles. Especially if you tell him what happened. I know you didn’t do this on purpose, and Scott will understand.”

“You think so?”

“I know Scott’s got a savior complex a mile wide, but if you tell him what happened he’ll understand it was self defense. This isn’t your fault Stiles. I should have casted quicker. I’m just as much to blame as you are. And you’re not to blame.”

Your phone starts buzzing, and when you check the caller ID, it’s Scott.

“You can’t tell him,” Stiles says.

“I won’t. I promise. But I think you should. He’s your best friend, Stiles. He’s not going to stop caring about you because you were put in an impossible situation.”

You answer the phone. In lieu of greeting, Scott says, “Someone’s taking the bodies.”

\---

When Jordan gets home that night, he smells like fire. You’re in the midst of your homework.

“Take a shower before the whole apartment smells like fire,” you say without looking up, but Jordan doesn’t answer, instead making his way to the bathroom.

“I thought you had a shift tonight,” you call out, but your brother continues to ignore you.

The shower turns off, and Jordan steps out of the bathroom in just a towel. “Jesus, Jordan. Put some clothes on. This isn’t a bachelor pad anymore.”

“Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yeah. Jordan, I’ve been here since you got home. Are you okay?”

“I just… I didn’t realize.”

You stand, now worried. “Do you feel alright?”

“I just… I just don’t remember getting home.”

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes. It’s Scott, and you pick up.

“Are you still with Stiles?”

“No, he dropped me off at home,” you respond. “What’s up?”

“Lydia and Malia think they’ve got something. We’re going to Eichen tomorrow to check in on a lead. You in?”

“Can’t. Mason and Liam are coming over to learn about protective charms. I think Mason wants to dabble into witchcraft, and I’d rather him do it with me than by himself. Good luck though. Anything you need me to do?”

“Not right now. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. And Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. Something about this feels even less right than normal.”


	10. IX

Lydia’s in the other room with Jordan. You can hear them flirting between sparring, and decide that Jordan needs to hear the ‘you’re seven years older than her’ lecture again.

Mason is intently braiding some ribbon together for his first protective charm. Liam’s sitting on the couch, rolling a jar of your makeshift mountain ash in his hand.

“So, it’s not actually mountain ash?”

“No, it’s a substitute. Believe it or not, mountain ash is notoriously difficult to get your hands on, not that you’d know the way you all seem to waste it.”

“What’s it made of?” Mason asks. “Did I do this knot right?”

You take the braid from him and inspect it. It’s rudimentary, but solid spell work. “Hell fire and salt. It’s dangerous, so do not try it. I mean that, Mason. This is pretty good for a first attempt. Remember to be careful that you don’t twist any of the strands though. That can twist intention.” You hand it back. “My mountain ash lets me control who is able to come in and out. None of that pesky all-or-none business that normal ash has.”

“Seems better than mountain ash then,” Mason says offhandedly, unraveling the braid from his charm to do it again. 

“It’s less potent. Doesn’t last as long. There are detriments to using the substitute.”

Lydia comes into the living area, a little sweaty from her session.

“Mind if I use your shower?” she asks, and you shake your head.

“Use whatever you want. Towels are in the closet. If you need any clothes, let me know.”

Lydia walks down the hallway, and you hear the shower start. You shift closer to Mason, showing him where he got tripped up the last time.

“Remember, intention is key. Hell will take any opportunity to twist your intention, so you have to be clear.”

“Why haven’t we used any blood?” Mason asks. “You said Hell requires offerings, right?”

“We haven’t used blood because this isn’t elemental spell work. Blood is for the big stuff. Protective charms, any kind of charm, really, that’s little. Hell only requires respect for those. I leave coins in a dish near my box of charms. If Hell requires more from me, it takes it. I recommend you do the same.”

The shower stops, and you can hear Lydia rustling around in the bathroom.

“So, am I done?”

You inspect it again. The braidwork is neat, the crystal bead in the center almost perfectly aligned. “Yeah. This is really well done for your first time. Remember, write a note with the intention-”

“As clear as possible,” Mason interrupts. “I know.”

“Wrap the charm in it, and wait until after the full moon to use it. That part is important.”

Lydia emerges from the back, bag slung over her shoulder. “Ready to go?”

You, Liam, and Mason stand. Copies of The Dread Doctors are picked up from the coffee table.

The air in the room is heavy. No longer lighthearted spellwork, the seriousness of the situation falls back down upon your shoulders.

\---

Everyone has dropped off into sleep except for you and Malia. You’re staring off across the room, neither willing to make the first move.

“I know you don’t like me,” you say conversationally, inviting her to finally air her grievances.

“You’re my boyfriend’s soulmate. Of course I don’t like you.”

“You don’t trust me either.”

“I know what you can do.”

You let your eyes flash pink, and let go of the tight hold you have over your pheromones. Almost immediately, Stiles is drawn to you. Even in sleep, his body turns to face yours and your name tumbles from his lips with a sigh. Immediately, you pull back.

“Malia, let’s be frank. If I wanted to ruin your relationship and take Stiles for myself, I could’ve done it by now.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Because he’s in love with you. I’m not going to mess with that. I’d be a terrible person if I did.”

“But you’re his soulmate.”

“Want to know a secret? Soulmate is just a pull. For my kind, it’s a little more than that, but for anyone else, all it is is a pull. No divine being cast Stiles and I together. A soulmate bond is just an understanding that we’d fit.”

“I can smell your unhappiness whenever you see us together.”

“That’s because accepting that your soulmate is in love with someone else and seeing the proof of that are two very different things.” You pull at the embroidery on a couch cushion. “Malia, I’ve never wanted for a moment to ruin what you and Stiles have. You should be able to tell that I’m telling the truth.”

“You are. That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Malia, your soulmate bond was cut.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m telling you that if it really worries you that much, convince Stiles to cut his and I’s bond. I’ve offered. And if you both agree, I’ll tie his end and your end together.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because,” you glance over at Stiles and smile softly. “I just want him to be happy.”

\---

Theo is wandering around the second floor when you go upstairs to find the bathroom.

“Hey,” he says, a sleazy smile already plastered across his face.

“Let’s get one thing very clear,” you say. “I don’t like you, and I definitely don’t trust you.”

“Stiles convinced you?”

“Stiles didn’t have to say anything, I can already tell that something’s not right about you. Your bonds are a mess. But that’s not what I’m talking about now. You were in the parking lot the other night. When Donovan attacked Stiles and I. And you didn’t do anything. Almost like you wanted to get rid of the only two people that you haven’t wormed your way into.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you were smart. You kept just out of my radar, but your presence is just too specific. You were there, Theo. You can’t fool me.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“This isn’t a threat; it’s a warning. Because while Scott has issues with murder, I don’t. So, you hurt any of this pack, I hurt you. Hell doesn’t like people who try to bend the rules, and I get the feeling that that is all you ever do.”


	11. X

Brett and Mason are talking quietly to one another on the bench next to you. You’re watching as Liam and Hayden have some sort of goal competition on the field.

“Things would be easier for both of them if they just stopped flirting,” you muse, amused at their behavior.

Mason begins explaining why Hayden hates Liam, but you’re distracted by a few students running onto the field in a panic.

“Does anyone have an inhaler?” You hear one call, and you don’t even have to look at Liam to know that it’s Scott.

You dash down the bleachers, hand fumbling around in your bag.

“Liam!” you call, and he turns but doesn’t slow down. You find the inhaler in your bag and toss it to him.

You follow at a distance, unable to keep up with his werewolf speed. By the time you reach the classroom, Liam is forcing the inhaler into Scott’s hand. Scott just sits there, hyperventilating.

“Move,” you force your way through the crowd gathering at the door.

“Scott,” Liam pleads, but you push him out of the way too. You listen to the rhythm of Scott’s breathing for a moment before taking the inhaler from his hand and gently forcing it into his mouth. You wait until Scott sucks in a breath, and administer it.

Immediately, Scott’s breathing evens out. Liam leans back on his hands in relief, and you take the inhaler and place it back in your bag.

“Why did you have that, anyway?” Scott pants.

“Stiles told me you don’t carry it anymore. Someone has to take care of all of you if you’re not going to take care of yourselves.”

\---

“(Y/n), can I talk to you?” Kira pulls you aside at lunch, and Lydia looks at you with confusion.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

Kira leads you into her father’s empty classroom, and hops up to sit on the edge of a desk.

“Can you tell me about Scott and I’s bond?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Scott told me about it. He can see this red string connecting his pinky to mine. He said that Deaton said it was a soulmate bond.”

“When I finally meet Deaton, I’m going to give him a good talking to about filling your heads with lies.”

“So, it’s not a soulmate bond?”

“Kira, what is this actually about?”

“I feel like I’m out of control. Something about me is wrong and I don’t know what to do. And Scott keeps telling me we’ll get through it because we’re soulmates, but now you;re telling me that we’re not and I just don’t know anything anymore.”

“Breathe, Kira.” You sit down at the desk next to her. “You and Scott aren’t, by the way. Both of your soulmate bonds lead far away from Beacon Hills. And that’s okay,” you rush to add as Kira’s eyes fill with tears. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Most people never meet their soulmates at all. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Then what can Scott see?”

“It sounds to me like the Red String of Fate. It’s a folktale from East Asia. Most western translations believe that it’s a form of a soulmate bond, but it’s not.”

“What is it?”

“Red are romantic bonds. Chances are, Scott just needed some clarity on his feelings for you and his soul provided that. There’s nothing wrong with that. And soulmates aren’t this big saving grace you all seem to think they are. They’re just a pull.”

“You’ve said that enough that I think you’re even starting to believe it.”

“What?”

“I’m not a wolf, but I can tell that you’ve lied every time you’ve said that. Why do you need to believe it so badly?”

“Because if I don’t, someone is probably going to get hurt.”

\---

The apartment is empty when you get home. That’s not the weird part, because you know Jordan has a shift. The weird thing is that it smells like fire again.

“Did he start smoking?” you wonder aloud, but the smell isn’t one of nicotine.

The charm on the window glints softly as you enter your bedroom. It smells less like fire there.

The Dread Doctors stares up at you from your desk. You and Kira are the only two that haven’t finished it, but you honestly don’t intend on finishing it at all. Something about it seems off, not only because of the source material. The hallucinations only began for the others after they finished it, and someone in the group needs to be clear headed. Especially if the scales are tipping toward worse.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, strap in. This entire story is both a fever dream and a script for the reality I'm trying to shift to. Updates will occur every Wednesday until the story is complete. I intend on diverging from canon mid-way through season 5, so season 6 plotlines I use will definitely be a little wonky. I intend for the reader insert to be fairly undescribed so that everyone can enjoy, so if I screw that up please let me know so that I can fix it.
> 
> Also! Allison and Isaac were soulmates, but did not have the time to fully realize that bond. It is very sad, but I don't like Allison enough to write a fix-it.
> 
> Cool. Thank you all for reading! Comments also give me the serotonin, so please provide? I'm really excited about this one, so support from you guys will mean the world to me.


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